Cornelius Kelly's Jewel
by FantasyIslander65
Summary: A former troublemaker returns to the island looking for help from Roarke. A 'flashback' story.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This is written in tribute to the late Red Buttons, who made several guest appearances on _Fantasy Island_—one of which was my favorite of his roles, Cornelius Kelly (from the Sunday Special episode "Cornelius and Alphonse/The Choice", which originally aired May 6, 1979). This little tale brings back Cornelius and his sidekick Alphonse, who was played by Billy Barty. Let me know if you like it! (And yes, I'm just MagicSwede1965 under a different name!)  
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§ § § -- July 14, 1993

It was said that the Ichino quadruplets were sometimes too curious for their own good, and the female half of the quartet was about to prove it once again. In the middle of summer vacation from school and searching for some distraction other than the usual pursuits of going to the beach or playing with their three-year-old nephew, Julianne and Jennette Ichino found themselves wandering along the Ring Road one steamy Wednesday morning, trying to come up with something novel. "Well, blast it, there's nothing to do," Jennette finally complained in exasperation. "They say everybody in the world wants to come live here. I bet they wouldn't if they knew how boring it really is!"

The drone of an engine somewhere over their heads caught Julianne's attention, and she looked up. "Hey, wait a minute…there's the plane," she said. "Remember last Christmas when Jonathan tried to talk Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie into hiring him to ring the bell at the main house, and how that never worked out? Well, we could do him one better. Let's go meet the plane. Camille says Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie go to the plane dock only on Saturday mornings, so they'll never know."

"You mean in case we're someplace we aren't supposed to be?" Jennette asked.

Julianne thought about that for a moment. "Well, that too, I guess, but they probably wouldn't mind anyway since there won't be any fantasizers today. Come on, let's go see who gets off the plane. At least it'll be something to do."

Jennette shrugged. "True. Okay, let's do it."

The two sisters pelted along the roadside till they had reached the clearing where all guests got their first good look at Fantasy Island, and paused at its edge. They knew, through their older sister Camille who was Leslie's friend, all about the warm and festive welcome Roarke gave his fantasizing guests every Saturday, and a couple of years ago she had even sneaked them and their two brothers to the clearing so that they could see a typical Saturday morning for her friend. The two girls in particular had been awed, but even Jonathan and Jeremy had been impressed. So the clearing looked strange to them now, with no band playing a lively Hawaiian-flavored tune and only four native women lining the dock, all of them with leis only. And of course, no white-suited hosts calling out a greeting.

But they were just in time to see the attendants finish securing the seaplane to its moorings and then open the door for the new arrivals. A number of teenagers filed off the plane, kids a few years older than Julianne and Jennette. Next a harried-looking Taiwanese woman, whom the girls knew slightly from their own tiny Asian settlement, shepherded four small, rowdy children onto the landing dock in front of her. One of her charges lagged behind, yelling what sounded like taunts at still another child who stuck out his tongue at the offender. Julianne and Jennette squinted at him. He didn't look like…

"Hey," Julianne whispered in surprise, "that other kid…that's not even a kid!"

Jennette blinked. "Yeah, you're right…it's a midget! Do you think it's Tattoo?"

"Gee, I dunno. I wish Camille was here. She could tell us if it's Tattoo," Julianne said wistfully. She and the other quads had heard quite a few stories from their older sister about the days when Tattoo had been Roarke's assistant, but they had no idea what Tattoo had looked like.

Then an average-sized redheaded man stepped out of the plane and focused on the smaller man. "Alphonse, act your age," he said in annoyance, his voice carrying clearly to the two girls. Julianne and Jennette looked at each other.

"Okay, so it isn't Tattoo," Julianne said, disappointed. "You think we'll ever get to meet him?"

"Who knows," Jennette sighed. "But geez, who's ever named _Alphonse_ anymore?"

Julianne giggled, and they turned their attention back to the plane dock, where the red-haired man and the one apparently named Alphonse were strolling down the ramp collecting leis. The Taiwanese child was still calling out insults at Alphonse, who finally pulled an impressively ugly gargoyle face on the kid.

"Alphonse, get rid of that brat and mind your own business," the red-haired man ordered in exasperation.

At which the Taiwanese mother turned to glare at him. "How dare you call my child a brat!" she snapped. "Pick on someone your own size, you bully!"

"Oh." The redhead blushed, matching his hair. "Sorry, ma'am. We didn't realize he was your kid. Pardon me."

"Hmph," the woman sniffed disdainfully. "Chuckie, come on, we need to get home."

"Let's go, Alphonse, we've got business to conduct," the redhead announced, leading the small man across the clearing. Julianne and Jennette tried to duck out of sight behind the tall forsythia bushes across the road from the clearing itself, but they were too late; the men had spotted them and now headed straight for them.

"Hey, don't run," said Alphonse. "We don't bite."

"How do we know that?" demanded Julianne, always a little bolder than her twin sister. Jennette nodded agreement.

"We're not dogs," Alphonse said, scowling.

His companion sighed, rolled his eyes and then pasted on a pleasant expression for the girls' benefit. "Allow me to introduce myself, ladies. My name is Cornelius Kelly, and this is my friend Alphonse. Tell me, is Mr. Roarke available?"

Julianne and Jennette looked at each other. "Well, I guess he is, but he and Miss Leslie are always busy all the time," Jennette finally ventured.

"But it's kinda early," Julianne put in thoughtfully, "so maybe they're still at home. They live in the main house. You know where that is, Mr. Kelly?"

"Oh, sure," said Cornelius Kelly with a grin. "That we do."

"Who'd you say besides Roarke?" Alphonse put in.

"Miss Leslie," said Jennette. "Mr. Roarke's daughter. She's his assistant."

The two men looked at each other in surprise. "Roarke musta finally fired Tattoo," Alphonse remarked. "To tell ya the truth, chief, I'm glad. He really out—" He cut himself off when Cornelius made a sharp slashing motion through the air.

"Out what?" Julianne prompted with interest.

"Out…did himself showing us around the island last time we were here," Cornelius said and grinned foolishly. "Well, it was nice meeting you girls. We need to get going. Come on, Alphonse…hubba hubba!" With that, the two men headed away toward the paved Ring Road, of which the dirt lane that terminated at the plane dock was an offshoot.

Julianne and Jennette looked at each other again, completely confused. "What the heck does 'hubba hubba' mean?" Jennette asked, and Julianne shrugged blankly.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- July 14, 1993

"For cryin' out loud, I don't remember it bein' this far to the main house," Alphonse griped, struggling to keep up with the longer strides of Cornelius. "How much more we got to go before we get there?"

"Oh, it's not that far," Cornelius said. "I can't believe you almost told those two brats that Tattoo outmaneuvered us the last time we came here. What were you thinking?"

"I must be tired from all the flying," Alphonse offered, panting. "Slow down, chief, I can't walk as fast as you."

"Right," Cornelius said and reduced his speed a little, then stopped altogether. "I just thought of something. Suppose Roarke remembers…?"

Alphonse halted beside him and squinted up at him. "Aw, come on, chief, it's been 14 years. Roarke's memory can't be _that_ good. Look, you want his advice or not? Isn't that what you dragged me all the way back to this benighted place for?"

Cornelius shot him a black look. "Get going," he said and began to stride forward once more. They rounded a bend in the Ring Road and came upon the duck pond, on the other side of which they could see the main house. "Aha, there it is."

"About time," grumbled Alphonse. They both broke into a trot and soon had climbed the steps, crossed the veranda and let themselves into the outer foyer. Alphonse went right ahead and pounded with considerable force on the inner-foyer door.

From within they heard an annoyed "Yes?" Alphonse threw the door open, and he and Cornelius came into the inner foyer, pausing to take in Roarke's study. From their point of view, the furniture had been shifted and much of it replaced, and they peered around the room curiously. Once they had finished their perusal of the office, they found Roarke and Leslie staring at them in disbelief.

"Cornelius Kelly, what are you doing here?" Roarke asked incredulously.

Leslie had a somewhat different question; vivid memories had flooded her mind the moment she'd seen Cornelius and Alphonse. "How under the sun did you two ever get onto this island?" she demanded severely. "You should never have been allowed this far: you have to have passes for the charter plane."

Cornelius Kelly smiled at her. "We bribed somebody," he said readily, with no shame whatsoever. He stepped into the study and took a really good look at her, his ruddy Irish face going slack with astonishment. "My heavens, you can't be that same little girl we met all those years ago! Mr. Roarke, your little ward grew up amazingly beautiful."

Roarke raised an eyebrow; Leslie snorted. "Still dripping charm, I see," she observed and extended a hand, palm up. "Hand over the passes, guys, right now."

"Not quite so timid as you once were, either," Alphonse noted, digging into his pocket and forking over his pass. Cornelius shrugged amiably and gave his over with good grace.

"I repeat," Roarke said, "what are you doing here?"

Cornelius cleared his throat and explained, while Leslie tucked the passes away and relocked the drawer in which Roarke kept them. "Well, actually, Mr. Roarke, I wanted to ask you for some advice." He took an uninvited seat in one of the club chairs; Alphonse hoisted himself into the other and swung his feet restlessly back and forth. "I figured you were the best person to come to, under the circumstances."

Roarke eyed him, quite on his guard despite Cornelius' apparent sincerity. "About what, exactly, would I be advising you?"

"Well." Cornelius settled himself more comfortably in his chair, crossed one leg over the other and absently waggled the foot that wasn't on the floor. "I just came into a substantial inheritance about a month or so ago, and I decided to buy myself a little tropical island. It had been up for sale for years, and I understand there's already a charming cottage on it. I've decided to call it Kelly's Jewel, and I'd like to open it up as an exclusive resort for the rich. Of course I'm not entirely sure how I should go about making a success out of it, so I immediately thought of you. You've made such a worldwide hit with your Fantasy Island, I felt there wouldn't be anyone on earth better qualified to tell me how I could make a go of my own project."

"Inheritance, hm?" Roarke murmured and studied him. "Forgive me for being so crass as to mention this…but I might remind you of a little debt you have yet to pay off."

Cornelius blinked at him, then turned to Alphonse with a ferocious scowl. "And you said his memory couldn't be that good," he growled. Alphonse shrugged sheepishly; Roarke and Leslie traded amused looks. After leveling a fiery glare on Alphonse, Cornelius inhaled deeply and turned back to Roarke. "Yes, that. Uh, well, I tell you what, Mr. Roarke. If you'll be so good as to advise me, I can get my resort opened and in business, and once I've got the clients pouring in, I can write out a check for the final amount in full."

Roarke's expression grew thoughtful; but before he could make any comment, Leslie spoke up, determined to protect her father's interests. "Uh-uh," she said firmly. "Straight cash, Mr. Kelly. No checks, no money orders, no credit cards, no vouchers and no IOUs. _Cash._ Got me?" Cornelius stared at her in amazement.

"Thank you, Leslie," Roarke said, amused. "Yes, indeed, Cornelius, considering the nature and age of the debt in question, I must insist on cash. And I'm afraid I must also insist that you pay off your debt to me now, since this is a purely speculative venture."

Alphonse sighed. "I told you this was never gonna work, chief."

"Quiet, Alphonse," Cornelius warned. "Come on, Mr. Roarke, you're a reasonable sort of guy, aren'tcha? I mean, you know I've always told everyone how fair you are…

"I think that's quite fair," said Roarke.

"Since when have I ever deceived you?" Cornelius demanded, then held up his hands when he saw Roarke and Leslie open their mouths to answer simultaneously. "Uh, let me rephrase that. How 'bout this. I truly have seen the error of my previous ways, Mr. Roarke, and I've turned over a new leaf. I've reformed, and I'm on the straight and narrow." Even Alphonse rolled his eyes at this. "I want nothing more than to conduct a legitimate business, and that's just why I've come to you for help."

"The money first," said Leslie implacably.

Cornelius began to look a little desperate. "But…well, I have a little problem. Y'see, after I bought Jewel, I kinda ran out of money."

"I bet you did," Leslie said dryly. "What do you have to prove you're telling the truth about this island you supposedly bought?"

Cornelius stared at her again, then plaintively at Roarke. "What'd you do to this kid to make her so cruel?" he whined and sighed melodramatically. "Okay, okay. You drive a hard bargain, but okay." He reached into an inside pocket of his worn brown jacket and extracted a folded paper. "This is the deed to Kelly's Jewel. You can hold it till I get the money together. How's that for a show of good faith?"

Impressed despite herself, Leslie could only shrug, watching her father reach across the desk and accept the page from Cornelius. Roarke settled back in his chair, unfolded the paper and began to read it. Leslie peered over his shoulder, skimming the fine print on the document and eyeing the collection of signatures at the bottom, her suspicions returning. "It might be a forgery, Father," she said.

At that Alphonse jumped out of his chair with a look of outrage. "Hey, you just watch yourself, missy," he commanded sharply. "That happens to be a genuine legal document with all the necessary signatures and notarizations. It's the real thing, and if you look a little more carefully, you'll see my name on it as a witness."

Roarke perused the signatures. "So it is," he said. "However, Leslie does have a point, and I intend to check with the proper authorities to be certain this is not a fraud." He looked up in time to meet Cornelius' indignant stare. "It's as much for your protection as mine, Cornelius, so I wouldn't object too loudly if I were you."

Cornelius and Alphonse looked at each other. "Well, I guess that makes sense," Cornelius conceded after a moment. "Okay then. What happens in the meantime?"

"Well, it's midweek, so we have plenty of accommodations," Roarke said. "I suggest the two of you check into a hotel room, and take the afternoon to relax. When I have heard from all quarters in regard to your new acquisition, I'll send for you."

"Sounds like a good deal to me," Alphonse said eagerly. "I'm dyin' for some lunch, and then I'm gonna have me a nice long swim. I deserve it after all the flights we made."

"How many flights _did_ you make?" Leslie asked, curious in spite of herself.

"Five," Alphonse informed her dauntingly. "We came in from New York City, and it was a chronic case of you-can't-get-there-from-here. We hadda change planes so many times, I never want to see another airport as long as I live. First Atlanta, then Chicago, then L.A. and then Honolulu. And I'm tellin' ya, they don't serve proper meals on airplanes anymore…like they ever really did, actually. You used to at least get cardboard food, now all you get is cardboard pretzels. And there was a screaming baby on every flight except the last one. That one, there was a seven-year-old brat with a smart mouth…"

"Alphonse—" Cornelius broke in wearily. "Come on, let's go so Mr. Roarke can check up on my deed and we can get this thing started." He arose and stuck out his hand at Roarke. "I really appreciate this, Mr. Roarke."

Roarke shook his hand, looking slightly dubious. "You're welcome, Cornelius."

When they were gone, he and Leslie looked at each other, and she suddenly broke into laughter. "Those two haven't changed much. There's some extra gray in their hair, but they're still the same two down-and-outers."

"So it would appear," Roarke said, smiling. "I believe Cornelius owned that jacket in the early seventies when he worked at the hotel, and they both looked much the worse for wear—even if it was in fact due merely to the flights of which Alphonse was complaining." They both laughed. "Why don't you check with the kitchen about lunch later, and I'll make a few telephone calls."


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- July 14, 1993

About three hours later Leslie was at the pool taking down a list of supplies its bartender, a handsome young native islander named Carl, would need for the weekend when there came an exuberant yell from the pool behind her. "Cannon_baaaaaaalllll!"_ She and Carl both turned just in time to see Alphonse launch himself off the diving board and land in the pool with a splash all out of proportion to his size, splattering water far enough that Leslie jumped back to avoid getting hit.

"Good grief," said Carl, astonished. "What was that?"

"A cannonball, obviously," said Leslie with heavy sarcasm. "Now we'll have to refill the pool on his account, most likely."

"Sorry about that," said a sheepish New York City accent, at which Carl and Leslie turned again to see Cornelius. "Alphonse loves cannonball dives. If you let him, that's all he'll do all day long. Say, young lady, d'you mind if we sit and get acquainted a little? I mean, if you have some spare time. You didn't look too busy."

Leslie looked at Carl, who smiled. "I think that's all I'll need, Miss Leslie," he said.

"Okay," Leslie agreed and tucked away her list. "Well, Mr. Kelly, I guess I can take a few minutes. Although for the life of me, I'm not sure why you'd want to get acquainted with me. You were so busy with Tattoo last time you were here, I didn't think you even noticed I was there."

"Oh, we did," Cornelius said, offering her his arm, to her very visible surprise. "Right this way, my dear young lady. Would you care for a refreshment? I'll buy."

"If this is your way of buttering me up…" Leslie began, and he hurriedly shook his head. "Well, all right, but I don't drink, especially when I'm on the job—which is nearly all the time. Carl should have some mango juice, so I'll take a glass of that."

"Right. Be back in a jiffy," Cornelius promised, pulling out a chair at the nearest empty table and waiting till she was seated before trotting off to the bar. Leslie turned in her seat to watch him go, wondering what he was really up to, before her attention was snagged by movement at the pool and she watched Alphonse perform another cannonball jump off the diving board. This time he splashed some sunbathing teenage girls who had just stretched out on their beach towels. They leaped to their feet, squealing with indignation; Alphonse came up, noted their reaction and waved at them, weakly apologetic.

Giggles sounded from nearby and she turned again to find Julianne and Jennette Ichino standing near her table, clad in bathing suits and carrying beach totes. "Hi, guys, how's your summer going?" she asked.

"Hi, Miss Leslie," said Jennette. "It was pretty boring till that little guy and his friend showed up this morning."

Leslie stared at them in surprise. "You saw them arrive?"

"Yeah…we were walking around, and we were at the plane dock at just the right time," said Julianne, all innocence. "They got off the plane and asked us where the main house was and if Mr. Roarke was available. We thought that Alphonse guy was a kid at first. Chuckie Tsu was picking on him all the way down the landing dock."

Leslie snickered; Julianne and Jennette babysat for the boy and his siblings from time to time, and occasionally Camille regaled her and their other friends with secondhand stories of Julianne's and Jennette's escapades with him. "Hmm…so _you're_ responsible for sending those two characters over to disrupt our nice peaceful morning," she said teasingly. The girls blushed and she laughed. "No harm done. Where's Camille been lately?"

"Gee, she didn't tell you?" Julianne asked in surprise. "She and Jimmy and David are on a vacation trip, and they decided to go to California. Andrea's the only one in the family who's ever been to the states except for Hawaii, and all the rest of us're tired of being jealous of her. Anyway, Camille wanted to see if she could maybe spot some celebrities, and David kept hollering about going to Disneyland."

Leslie laughed. "Good for them. How long are they supposed to be gone?"

"Till August," said Jennette, just as Cornelius returned with two glasses. He stopped and peered with interest at the fourteen-year-old twins.

"So we meet again," he said. "Never did catch your names."

"We didn't tell you," Julianne said. "I'm Julianne Ichino, and this is my sister Jennette. We're half of the quads."

Cornelius seated himself, peering at her without comprehension. "Is that a new singing group or something?"

That sent Julianne and Jennette into a vast fit of uncontrollable giggles, and Leslie let out a laugh of her own. "No, they mean they're part of a set of quadruplets. Identical twin girls and identical twin boys, all born together. Their older sister is a friend of mine. Hey, you two, you came here to swim, didn't you?"

Still giggling madly, they both nodded. "Is there gonna be any water left in the pool after he gets done, though?" Jennette wondered, at which she and Julianne both began to laugh again. From behind them there was another voluminous splash.

"Oh, geez," Leslie groaned, torn between laughter and annoyance. "Maybe you two could distract him. Talk him into a game of water polo or something."

"Two against one?" said Julianne doubtfully. "Besides, he's smaller than we are."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Cornelius broke in. "Alphonse has been a friend of mine for many years, and he has a lot of pride. Challenge him to a water-polo game, you two against him, and he'll take you on without a second thought. He might even beat you."

The girls looked at each other skeptically and grinned. "Aw, let's try it," Jennette said. "At least we can cool off."

"True," Julianne agreed. "Would you watch our bags, please, Miss Leslie?"

"For a while," Leslie said, "but I can't stay too long. Don't worry, nobody'll take them. Have fun, you two." The girls piled their bags into one of the empty chairs and hurried off to the pool, stepping into the shallow end.

"Well," said Cornelius. "You were, what, about their age when we were here last?"

Leslie regarded him and smiled slowly. "Yes, I was, as a matter of fact. You and Alphonse happened to kidnap Tattoo on the weekend of my fourteenth birthday."

Cornelius blinked and thought back, then reddened. "Oh. Come to think of it, Mr. Roarke did have us serve meals and cake at a party that Sunday night. So that was for your birthday, huh? We had no idea." He leaned across the table. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty-eight," said Leslie. "As you can see, a lot's changed in fourteen years."

"Yeah, that's for sure. For starters, you're Mr. Roarke's assistant, according to those two young ladies over there, and I noticed that you're not all dressed up. Heck, even Mr. Roarke's not wearing his usual white suit, and I thought white suits were the only clothes he ever owned. Expanded his wardrobe, did he?"

"We save the formal white business attire for the weekends," said Leslie. "It's easier to get things done during the week when we wear more casual clothes." Roarke still tended to favor light-colored clothing, which was prudent in a tropical climate; but during the week he often wore short sleeves and sometimes even shorts. Leslie usually wore shorts and summer tops in assorted styles, or sundresses, and preferred a variety of bright tropical colors along with the occasional pastel. Today she was in white shorts and a peach-colored top with wide straps that tied over the shoulders.

"I see," said Cornelius thoughtfully. "So how'd you become assistant?"

"Tattoo got married and moved back to Paris with his wife," Leslie told him. "I myself got married a couple of years later and left the island, but I was widowed after five years and needed time to grieve. So I came back home to Fantasy Island. Father was between assistants at the time, and I asked for the job and managed to get it."

"Oh," Cornelius mumbled, processing this information, then looked up. "Hey, you just called him 'Father', if I'm not mistaken. A little indiscretion…?"

Leslie rolled her eyes. "Really, Mr. Kelly, you do have a way of believing the worst about people, don't you? He formally adopted me as a high-school graduation gift."

"Pardon me," Cornelius said sheepishly. "You're right, I do have a bad habit of sticking my foot in my mouth. Uh…onward and upward. You happen to have any idea how Mr. Roarke got hold of this island and got his business going?"

Leslie, sipping from her glass, paused and regarded him with renewed suspicion. "Tell me, Mr. Kelly, you wouldn't happen to be picking my brain, would you?"

"Who, me? Never," Cornelius said immediately, flapping a hand at her and shaking his head vigorously. "I just thought I could pick up a few useful tips. After all, like I said, I want Kelly's Jewel to be an exclusive resort, and rich people do prefer certain amenities…if you know what I mean."

"We're not exclusively for the rich…as you yourself should know," Leslie pointed out deliberately, lowering her chin and eyeing him through her bangs.

Cornelius got her meaning and turned so red she thought his head might explode. "I see your point." He cleared his throat loudly, drained the entire remaining contents of his glass and got hastily to his feet. "Well, uh, thanks for your time, Leslie. Alphonse!" His voice rang off the cabanas and the retaining wall at the back of the pool. "Get outta there, we got some stuff to do. Hubba hubba!"

Protesting, Alphonse climbed out of the pool and slopped along in Cornelius' wake. Leslie stared after them and groaned to herself. "He _still_ says that?" she muttered, shook her head and drank the rest of her juice before returning to work.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- July 14, 1993

By suppertime Roarke had heard from everyone he'd contacted, much to Leslie's surprise. "Shall we invite Cornelius and Alphonse to dinner?" he suggested.

She looked thoughtful. "Well, I'm not so sure about that. You asked me a while ago why I came in a little late. Cornelius must be really into this little project of his, because he waylaid me at the pool and asked quite a few questions." She outlined what had happened earlier that afternoon.

"I see," Roarke said. "He seemed that enthusiastic?"

"To me he did," Leslie said, nodding. "In spite of our past history with him and Alphonse, I sort of hate to burst his bubble. And Alphonse was having such a great time in the pool." She snickered.

Roarke responded with a chuckle. "Well, all right. At any rate, Clark Mokuleia did say he was sending someone out to ask about the provenance of this alleged island Cornelius believes he owns. When I told him about it, he said it sounded oddly familiar to him somehow. It sounded as if he were acting on a hunch, so I told him to look into it."

"In that case," Leslie said, "why don't we let those poor slobs have a night free to daydream, and we can break the bad news tomorrow."

"How can you be so certain it's bad news?" Roarke teased her.

She eyed him with raised brows. "Because it's _always_ bad news with those two."

Laughing, Roarke nodded and escorted her out to the veranda. They spent a leisurely forty minutes or so at their meal, and Leslie had just finished a dessert of mandarin orange segments in vanilla ice cream when a jeep hove into view around the northern loop of the Main House Lane and pulled to a stop in front of the main house. Sheriff Clark Mokuleia hopped out and waved at them. He was a handsome young man a year or two older than Leslie and, though born in Hawaii, had grown up in the fishing village.

"Good evening, Sheriff," Roarke called. "I presume you have something to report."

"Certainly do, Mr. Roarke," Mokuleia said. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"No, we're finished," said Leslie. "Come on up." Mokuleia trotted up the steps and strode across the veranda as Mariki came out with her cart. The two greeted each other, and Mariki set about clearing the table while Mokuleia took one of the empty chairs.

"So what have you found, sheriff?" Roarke inquired.

Mokuleia grinned wryly. "I knew there was a reason Kelly's Jewel sounded familiar. My parents have distant relatives in Tahiti, and off the northern end of that island to the west is an island called Moorea. There's a very tall rock off Moorea's northern coast; it's privately owned, and there's a little house right atop the rock, with a helipad on its roof. That's the only way the owner can get on and off his rock. Now, one of my relatives heard that the owner was tired of his isolation and decided he wanted to sell the place, and put out the word around Moorea and Tahiti. Apparently your friend Cornelius spent some time in Papeete recently, because it turns out that's what he bought."

Roarke and Leslie looked at each other. "Do you happen to know the proposed selling price of this, uh, rock?" Roarke asked.

"Let me put it this way—it was quite a bit more than Mr. Kelly paid for it." Mokuleia said with another grin. "Someone must have taken him for an easy mark and figured he could come into some quick money, and sold him that rock. Problem is, that person didn't have the authority to sell it to him."

"So you were right, Leslie," Roarke remarked, his dark eyes twinkling. "Cornelius' deed really is a forgery, of sorts."

Leslie shook her head, laughing. "He had to have bought it sight unseen. From your description, sheriff, it doesn't sound too appealing. So either he fell for the bogus seller's description—which I'm sure was highly embellished—or he didn't bother waiting for one at all and simply forked over whatever the asking price was. And if a helicopter is really the only way on and off that place, then Cornelius would have to learn to fly one, not to mention go out and buy one."

"Indeed," Roarke agreed, joining in her laughter along with Mokuleia. "Well, then, I suppose we'll simply have to break the news to Cornelius."

"It's not quite all bad, actually," Mokuleia said. He grinned. "It might soften the blow when you tell the poor guy." He filled them in on the rest of the story, and a few minutes later left both Roarke and Leslie convulsed with laughter.

§ § § -- July 15, 1993

Shortly after breakfast the following morning, Roarke and Leslie returned to the study, where Roarke opened the top middle drawer in the desk and removed the deed Cornelius had given him the previous morning. "Well, it can't be put off any longer."

"So much for the luck of the Irish," observed Leslie with a snicker, watching Roarke pick up the phone and punch out 325, the number at the hotel. Roarke grinned at her and waited a few seconds.

"Ah, yes, good morning, Tomiko. Would you be so kind as to put me through to Cornelius Kelly's room, please?" he asked. "Thank you." He waited about ten more seconds before receiving an answer. "Well, good morning, Cornelius!" His eyebrows shot up at Cornelius' reply, and his tone grew gently admonishing. "What, you're still not out of bed? Why, it's already eight-thirty!…Yes, as a matter of fact, I did indeed find out all about your little acquisition. Why don't you and Alphonse come to the main house, and we'll talk about it, huh? Good. I'll be expecting you." And with that, he hung up.

Before much longer there was a knock on the door; Leslie got up and let Cornelius and Alphonse in. Cornelius looked hopeful; Alphonse just looked impatient. It was he who broke the silence when they were all standing in the study. "Well?"

Roarke picked up the deed, arose and gave Cornelius a pitying look. "I'm sorry to tell you that you are the victim of a fraud."

Cornelius gaped at him. "Wha…?"

Roarke nodded and proceeded to tell Cornelius what Sheriff Mokuleia had told him and Leslie the previous evening. Alphonse stood shaking his head as if he had known all along; Cornelius looked more and more bereft the more he heard. Finally he let out a noise that sounded like a sob. "He took me! That swindler, he stole everything I had!"

Roarke grinned. "Oh, perhaps not, Cornelius. It just so happens that the sheriff discovered that the check you wrote to the swindler subsequently bounced. So apparently, your inheritance is still intact, except for the bank fees to cover returned checks. Perhaps you haven't really lost anything."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Leslie drawled, joining her father behind the desk. "Since you've got plenty of money now, you shouldn't feel too much pain in paying off your debt to Father, Mr. Kelly, and then you and Alphonse are free to leave."

"But not before then, is that it, missy?" Alphonse demanded.

"You got it," said Leslie, smiling amiably.

"Well…" Cornelius scratched his head, squinting at the ceiling. "Only trouble with that is, I don't remember how much I owe. Couple hundred, maybe?"

Leslie snorted, and Roarke raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Cornelius, I'm afraid you've grossly underestimated the amount of your outstanding debt. With accrued interest over fourteen years, I believe the current total is approximately twenty thousand dollars."

Cornelius gasped. "But…but…that's nearly the entire inheritance! Aw, now, Mr. Roarke…seeing as we're such good friends and all…can't we work out a payment plan?"

"You had fourteen years to pay it off," Roarke pointed out. "In all that time, I received a total of one thousand, six hundred eighty-two dollars and twenty-four cents."

"But…but…" Cornelius floundered.

Leslie cleared her throat. "Say, Mr. Kelly," she said thoughtfully, "if Father's agreeable, we might be able to work something out. If you pay back the full principal now, in one lump sum, he might be willing to forgo the interest."

"I could go for that," Cornelius said eagerly. "Is that okay with you, Mr. Roarke?"

"I don't see why not," Roarke mused, "if only to clear up the matter once and for all."

"Sounds like everyone's in agreement," Leslie said. "Come on, Mr. Kelly, I'll escort you to the bank."

"Heck no," Cornelius blurted. "Frankly, young lady, you scare the pants right offa me. If Mr. Roarke's free, I'd rather he was my escort." He sighed wistfully. "What a letdown. I coulda been the proud owner of Kelly's Jewel…"

"Oh, but there's that helicopter problem," Leslie reminded him, and he gave her a sour stare. "Think about it, Mr. Kelly, you probably got off really lightly. Once you'd taken actual possession of that island, Kelly's Jewel would've had to be renamed Kelly's Jail."

Cornelius squeezed his eyes shut and groaned aloud. "Get me outta here, Mr. Roarke," he moaned pleadingly.

"Me too, while you're at it," Alphonse grumbled. Roarke obliged, visibly fighting his amusement all the way out the door, and winked at Leslie just before departing.

**THE END**


End file.
